Three Times Collide
by thoughtyouknewr
Summary: 3 Deans, 2 Sams and Johns, and 1 Mary all from different times. They are brought together by an angel and the dangerous enemies they all share. This won't end well. Deaged!Sam. Little!Dean. Daddy!John/Dean.
1. Chapter 1

**I don't own supernatural. The same goes for the rest of the story in case I forget.**

**WARNINGS!: some swearing, descriptions of what actually happened to Sam in hell, and major cuddling because I can't resist. **

Chapter 1 A Very Mixed Up Family Reunion

Twenty year old Dean was _dog_ tired. All he wanted to do was lay down and go to sleep. Unfortunately, this was not an option.

He had his father had just finished a three week long hunt. He hadn't been able to check his phone since the hunt started, and they had left Sam at home. He would be the first to admit that he hadn't been doing the best job of taking care of his baby brother lately, but that didn't mean he wasn't worried about the boy.

Sam had hit his growth spurt lately, and was getting teased at school because of it. He was tall, thin to the point of looking slightly unhealthy, and somewhat clumsy as he got used to the new height. It also didn't help that he was the smartest boy in school either. He was teased for being nerdy and wearing hand-me-down clothes. Dean knew all of that.

But he was having his own problems. Their father was pushing even harder in their hunting (he was doing the same to Sam) and had insisted Dean get a job. Dean's day consisted of waking with Sam at four in the morning for training, driving Sam to school on his way to work, working to around nine at night, and then driving to the nearest bar for hustling. He was so tired by the time he got home that all he could do was fall into bed.

He knew Sam was having a hard time because he woke up most mornings with Sam in his bed. Whenever Sam got upset, couldn't sleep, had had a particularly bad day, or had a nightmare he would end up in Dean's bed. Dean never minded, but their father thought it was childish and wanted it to stop.

Dean wondered how childish their father would think it was if he learned Sam still called Dean Daddy sometimes.

Sam's first word had come later then most children. He didn't say it until he was two. Dean thought it might have had something to do with how Sam had had to watch their mother die. Sure, he didn't remember it, but something like that had to leave a mark on a kid.

Sam went to daycare because Dean had to be at school during the day. Sam would watch everyday as the other kids ran up to the people who picked after school, yelling "Daddy!" happily the whole way.

To his two year old mind it made logical sense that the person who picked him up and took care of him would be _his_ Daddy. And if Sam had been any regular child Dean conceded that it would have been. But it was _Dean_ who picked Sam up after school, and _Dean_ who took care of him.

Dean had been stunned when Sam had run up to him one day after school yelling Daddy. It was Sam's first word. For a while he was too stunned by the development to do anything about it, and by the time he tried to get Sam to stop it was too late. Dean had begged and bargained with the two year old, but to no avail.

Eventually they came to a compromise. Sam would call John Dad, and he would call Dean Deanie in public. However, when it was just the two of them Sam insisted on calling him Daddy.

Other children might have been embarrassed by having their little brother calling them Daddy, but to Dean it was like the reward for all his hard work. Sam calling him Daddy made everything worth it. Helping Sam get dressed in the morning, making sure he was fed, teaching him to read; it was all worth it just to hear that one little word from Sam. Not that it hadn't been worth it before, but being Sammy's daddy was like icing on the cake.

Even now that Sam was a big strong sixteen year old he still wanted his daddy sometimes. And Dean always made sure to be there.

When he entered the apartment they had been staying in the last two months, Dean knew instantly that something was wrong. He just _knew_. And he knew it had something to do with his baby brother.

"Sammy!" he called urgently.

There was instant movement from their bedroom. A tiny form sprinted out of the room towards Dean.

"Daddy!" the tiny Sam cried, flinging himself at his suddenly much larger brother.

Dean was stunned, but managed to catch the tiny little boy and lift Sam into his arms.

"Sammy?" he asked, momentarily forgetting his father behind him in his stunned worry.

The tiny head nodded against his shoulder where it had buried it's self.

"What happened Baby?" the pet name slipped past his lips before he could stop himself. Not that he really wanted to stop himself.

"Don't know," Sammy answered, his voice muffled against Dean's shirt. "Went to sleep after you left for the hunt, and woke up like this the next day. I called you," he added. "You didn't answer." He sounded a bit hurt.

"I know baby, I was just really busy. You really don't know why you shrunk, Sammy? You have to be around six," Dean questioned worriedly.

"Nu-uh," Sam replied, shaking his head.

Dean suddenly became aware of just how warm the little body he held really was. "Are you sick?" he inquired, going to mother hen mode at the thought.

"Uh-huh," Sam confirmed, his little head nodding against Dean again.

Well at least that explained why he was being so huggy. A sick Sammy was always a clingy Sammy.

"What've you been doing to keep your fever down?" Dean asked, taking charge as always.

"Cool shower. Too cold," the little boy shuddered. "Children's Tylenol every eight hours. Cool wash cloths in strategic points," Sam listed off.

"Alright, we need to pack up; we're moving again," Dean informed him. "Dad already rented the next house. We just have to move in. It's a big house. Apparently one of his hunter friends is lending it to him because he needs help with a hunt and it's too far away for us to stay here." Dean's voice was low and soothing, the opposite of what it normally was. He was moving around the room as he spoke, gathering up odds and ends that were littered around.

He turned around to get to the bedroom and caught sight of his father standing stunned in the doorway. He remembered what Sam had yelled when he was running towards him and winced a little. He couldn't imagine how much that must have hurt his father, but right now he was more worried about Sam.

He avoided his dad's eyes as he finished grabbing everything of worth in the house. By the time he was done Sam was asleep against his shoulder, and his father was in the car waiting.

He carried his baby outside and into the car. Sitting down in the backseat he prepared himself for a very long and awkward car ride, not to mention the questions his father was sure to have.

"So," John began after a half an hour. "Sam calls you Daddy?"

"Yeah," Dean answered. "Always has, actually. It was his first word. He saw all the other kids at the day care getting picked up by their daddies, and figured the person who picked _him_ up must be _his_ daddy. It took me forever to get him to stop calling me that in public. I had to compromise in the end. He would call you Dad, and call me Deanie in public if he could call me Daddy when we were alone. I didn't want to hurt your feelings, so I agreed to it. I was six, Dad, I didn't know what else to do," he was pleading with his dad to understand, and he knew it.

"I do understand, Dean; really, I do. It's just-it's hard, y'know. Knowing my son doesn't look at me like a father."

Dean tried to look understanding, but he didn't actually have a son (if you didn't count Sam) so he really had no idea how his father felt.

"For what's it's worth, I could never see anyone else as a father," Dean offered, carefully pushing thoughts of Bobby out of his mind. "Lord, I can still remember what you were like when I was four." A small fond smile decorated Dean's face.

"Is that actually _really_ the last time you remember me being a good father?" John asked in a whisper.

Dean looked undecided, but eventually decided to tell the truth. "I don't know if you've noticed, Dad, but I haven't had a daddy since I was four." Dean turned his head away. "The last time I remember you helping me get dressed, the last time I remember playing ball, the last time I remember cuddling up in front of the TV when neither of us were hurt; all of that was before Mom died. Sammy and I didn't just lose one parent that night. Sammy had me to be a replacement, but I didn't have anyone."

John looked understandably upset. Dean knew how much he had to be hurting his father, but he was really telling his father the _whole_ truth for the first time in sixteen years.

_**Supernatural**_

The rest of the drive was spent in silence until Sam stirred when they were getting close to their destination.

"Where are we?" he asked sleepily, snuggling closer into Dean's body heat and shivering.

"We're almost to the house Dad's friend got us," Dean told him, putting the back of his hand to his baby's sweaty forehead. "You're burning up, Sammy."

Sam didn't answer.

They pulled into the drive way of a house that may as well have been considered a mansion.

"How the hell does a _hunter _end up with enough money to buy one of these?" Dean questioned incredulously.

"Oh, I'm sorry," John smirked. "Did I give the impression that he bought it? It goes to the oldest son in the family."

"Oh," Dean said, looking enlightened. "I don't suppose this friend you're going to be helping is Josh, is it?"

"How'd you guess?" John asked.

"I don't know; maybe it's the fact that Josh always has the best of everything, no matter that he doesn't have a paying job," Dean snarked back. "I thought you and him had a falling out."

"We did," John confirmed. "But I'm the closest hunter, he really needs help, and he says he refuses to allow you and Sam to stay in a crappy motel when you could be here. I'm going a few states over, actually. You two are staying here because I don't need you on this hunt. Plus now that we've got Sammy…." He trailed off.

"Right here," Sam volunteered. "_Sam _doesn't appreciate being talked about as though he's not there."

Dean snorted at the very Sam like statement. They got out of the car and grabbed the bags. Sam tried to get Dean to put him down so he could carry his own bag, but was met with a slightly stern look and instructions to relax. There were no more complaints.

John watched in shock. He had noticed before that Sam always seemed to be a little more willing to follow Dean's instructions, but now that he was paying attention it was obvious who Sam trusted. When _he_ asked Sam to do something he was usually met with a curious "Why?" and then the mother of all bitch faces and an argument when he said something along the lines of, "Because I said so."

All Dean had to do was give Sam the slightest of looks and the little boy was….well, he wasn't all sunshine and roses, but at least he was compliant.

Once inside the house, Dean immediately set about claiming his and Sam's room. He didn't really care that the house they were in was a mansion; he and Sam would be sharing a room anyway. He found a room that looked somewhat like an old nursery. It didn't actually have a baby tint to it, but there were a couple scattered toys sitting on the ground and a good six full sized beds. It was good enough for him.

He returned to the living room where his father was inspecting his surrounding carefully. "Josh keeps the windows and doors salted at all times. He put in iron fittings, and there's a devil's trap under every rug."

"Can you do me a favor when you see him?" Dean pleaded.

"Depends on what the favor is," John declared warily, well aware that she should always treat any request from Dean with caution.

"Tease him about being a rich little prick. Tell him he's a first class jerk," Dean requested.

"Jerk?" John asked.

"Junior educated rich kid," Sam clarified. "Why did you think Dean always hates it when I call him jerk?"

There was no snobbishness in the question, nor was there a challenge like John was used to. Sam sounded honestly curious.

"I thought you made it up when you were both younger and you thought jerk was the ultimate swear word," John confessed.

"Please," Sam complained with an eye roll. "I was never _that _naïve. I _did _live with you and Dean, y'know. By the time I was five I knew _exactly_ which words I should avoid."

Before John could answer there was a bright white light, momentarily blinding all of them.

Dean immediately dropped Sam onto his feet and grabbed his gun. Sam pulled a knife, and John was ready with holy water before they could even see again.

When the light cleared three people were standing there, looking panicked.

Dean was half way to holding a knife at the neck of one of them when there was another flash.

Sam and John were now in the middle. On their left side Dean was half way to what _looked_ like his younger self, his younger father, and his mother. On their right side two men were standing from the ground, groaning as they did so.

Dean caught the eye of the shorter of the two men, and his breath caught in his throat. He was looking at himself.

"Shit," echoed from both men at once.

**So…thoughts?**


	2. Chapter 2 Clarifications

**I don't own supernatural**

Chapter 2 Clarifications

"Hey Sam," Dean started uncertainly. "I didn't know leviathans did the whole time travel gig," he half asked.

"They don't," Sam confirmed, staring at Dean's younger self about ten feet away. "I actually thought the only ones who did time travel were tricksters and angels."

"Shit," Dean said again.

"Yeah," Sam agreed.

"Yo Castiel. You're feathery ass is needed down here," Dean yelled at the ceiling.

There was a rustling of wings. "Dean," it was a statement, and it came from the trench coated angel who was suddenly standing in the middle of the room.

"Yeah," Dean affirmed. "I don't care how big of a stick you've got shoved in undesirable places at this point in time; Sam and I would simply _love_ an explanation to why we have been pulled out of our own time. Again."

"We have brought your family from three time periods together. They are in danger. We thought it would be easier for you to watch over if they were all in one time," Castiel informed them.

"You have _got_ to be kidding me," Sam said incredulously. "Since when are we allowed to change time? I don't remember this, and judging by the Dean over there," he gestured at the twenty year old version of Dean, "I have to be at least sixteen."

"An angel went rogue in your time and traveled back in time to start the apocalypse over twenty years earlier. We are trying to deal with it, but as you know your family is a large target of both angels and demons," Cas told them.

"Well that's just freakin' great," Dean bitched. "How many times do we have to save the world Dude? I mean, this is what number time Sam?"

"If you're counting the leviathans then fourth," Sam stated wearily. He already knew they would be accepting Castiel's mission.

Castiel looked at Dean for a few seconds. Just as Dean was about to cave, he added something. "This event has changed the whole course of time. It is entirely possible that if you can keep your family alive through this that you might wake up back in your own time with a live mother and father."

That caught both boys' attention. "You mean it, Cas?" Sam asked, stunned.

"Yes," Cas nodded.

"Well that settles it," Dean stated. "Welcome to operation lock down Winchester."

"Good," Castiel proclaimed. "I am going back to Heaven now. Please call me if you need help." And then he was gone.

"Right, Sam, you're on protections duty. Make sure there's _everything_ here. Oh, and look for some bleach; we're running low," Dean ordered.

"Already way ahead of you," Sam answered, his hand dripping blood from where he had just slit his palm.

"Sam!" the older John gasped. He didn't understand _exactly_ what was going on, but he had gathered that these men were older versions of his boys.

It was too late, however, as Sam was already out of the room.

"You," Dean said, pointing to his twenty year old self, "drop the knife."

For once Dean obeyed without question.

"Right, so you all heard what Cas said. You're officially on lockdown. Call Josh and tell him that whatever hunt you've got you can't get to. Tell him the truth, would you? We could use any help we can get. You three," he suddenly ordered, directing his attention at his mother, younger father, and three year old self, "can come with me; I'll give you a tour."

"Why the _hell_ did Sam just slit open his hand?" middle Dean asked somewhat shrilly.

"There are sigils to keep angels out, but they have to be drawn in human blood," oldest Dean answered flatly. "Sam's not a baby; he knows what he's doing."

A sudden angered yell from the next room brought Dean into fighting mind set instantly. "Or at least I _thought _he did," he grumbled.

"Bastard! I just finished drawing this, and now I'm to have to do it all over again," Sam yelled.

"No, you're good," Dean denied as he shoved the angel sword through the angel's chest. "Next time, try going after someone in your league," he advised the angel as he pulled the blade back out.

There was a bright white light, and when everything calmed down again there was a body laying on the ground with wings of ash spread out around it.

Mary, both Johns, the two younger Deans, and Sammy were standing there with their mouths opened in stunned silence.

"Thanks," his Sam said briefly. "Will you deal with the-" he gestured towards the dead angel.

"I got it," Dean assured him.

Suddenly he looked back at the assembled people, and did a double take. "Oh my God! Little Sammy! He's adorable! I'll go get the kerosene," he then continued as though this were completely normal.

Sam rolled his eyes. "You do that," he mollified.

Everyone else stared at him as he exited the room.

"Is he always like that?" Mary inquired cautiously.

"No," Sam assured. "Only when we go from being seconds away from becoming leviathan chow to a room full of dead family members. We'll get our bearings soon enough."

"Would anyone mind explaining to me exactly what just happened there, and when angels and traveling through time suddenly became normal?" younger John asked. He was hiding little Dean's eyes.

Sam stared at him blankly for a second, then suddenly felt enlightened. "Oh, I forgot you didn't learn about the supernatural until after Mom," he remembered. "Well, basically, things that most people think are just myths and imagination are really real. Everything from pagan gods to angels. From demons to vampires. Although unicorns, unfortunately, do not exist."

"Unicorns?" middle Dean asked incredulously. "Of all the things you could've chosen you picked _unicorns_?"

"Well there's a story behind that. It was either unicorns or bigfeet," Sam defended.

"Vampires don't exist," Sammy tried to put in. "Well, we've never met one at least."

"Yeah that changes," Sam rejected. They had been walking from room to room as they spoke, Sam painting sigils in his blood on every available surface.

There was a sudden roar of flames from the back yard.

"And that was Dean burning the dead angel," Sam added. "We didn't meet angels until I was around twenty four. After that it was pretty much a common occurrence for a couple to swoop in every now and then. They didn't really turn deadly for awhile. After they got pissy with us, though, they kept throwing weird things at us. Alternate universes, time travel, the like. Dean and I kind of got used to it."

"Just because you went to sleep in one place doesn't mean you're going to wake up in the same place," Dean confirmed as he walked back into the room. "And you're off a little; we met Gabriel when you were twenty three," he added.

"Oh yeah," Sam reminisced. "I forgot about that. That's actually kind of surprising, seeing as I loathed him for that."

"What happened?" John questioned. It was actually pretty rare for Sam to say he hated anything. He said he hated moving around so much, and that they never did anything other then hunting, but that was about it. He never even screamed it in the heat of one his arguments with John.

"Let's just be content to say that I spent six months away from Dean," Sam said with finality.

"Huh?" Dean asked, his head shooting out of the closet he was searching for bleach. "I thought he just made me die over and over again."

"Yeah, for Tuesday," Sam confirmed. "But then it was Wednesday, and you died again and stayed dead. For six months. Then I found Gabriel and made him take me back to that Wednesday."

"That's why you wouldn't let me go anywhere that day!" Dean exclaimed. "I thought you were just being paranoid."

"Nah," Sam replied. "I didn't know if he would take me back to Wednesday if I let you die again."

"You didn't _let_ me die," Dean protested.

Sam shrugged. "You find any bleach yet?" he asked, quickly changing the subject.

"No. I think Josh used it all on cleaning, stupid son of a bitch," Dean snorted.

"Bleach?" Mary inquired. She was utterly confused. She had been visited by a trench coated _angel_ and pulled out of her own time. Now she was dealing with four unfamiliar men, and one little boy who didn't act like the age he looked.

"Yeah," the man who had complained confirmed distractedly. "It's the only thing that works against leviathans."

"Against _what_?" older John asked.

"Leviathans," Sam answered him. "They're a new monster in our time. They're not likely to show up here, but better safe then sorry when it comes to those things."

"Daddy?" little Dean asked, tugging at his father's shirt. "Who're they?" he asked, pointing at the many men he didn't know and the other boy who he hoped would play with him.

Sammy was sagging. He was exhausted and _sick_. Sicker then he could remember being in a long time. He had neglected to mention to Dean that they had run out of child's cold medicine two days ago. He had been left to deal with an excruciatingly high fever by himself for far too long.

"Daddy," he found himself echoing little Dean. He reached to be picked up.

Middle Dean looked down at him in surprise which quickly changed to alarm when he saw exactly how sick Sam was looking. He instantly picked Sam up and felt his temperature again. It was spiking hotter then ever.

"You're burning up," he murmured. "Does anyone mind if I split for awhile and try to get Sammy cooled down?" he asked sarcastically, obviously not really asking permission. "Thanks," he continued, not waiting for an answer.

"He's sick," oldest Dean proclaimed, his gaze fixed on the small child in middle Dean's arms.

"No, really?" Middle Dean shot back. "I'm going to try to get his fever down." He exited the room with Sam lying languidly against his shoulder.

"I should go," John made vague gestures towards the direction his sons had walked in.

"No you shouldn't," Dean answered back flatly. "You're going to help me reintroduce those three," he finished, making his own gesturing motions towards Mary, younger John, and little Dean. "They don't need you," he added, not caring much how that had to hurt his father.

His dad had lost all his respect the moment he told Dean he might have to kill Sam.

"You need help with that?" John questioned incredulously.

"No," Dean admitted. "But Sam doesn't like it when he has to have to a cold bath to get his fever down. He likes it even less when there are more people."

Sam nodded vigorously. He remembered how awkward being bathed always was. It was also one of the very few things that had the power to keep his fever reasonably low.

"Alright," John reluctantly conceded.

He walked over to the group of people from the earliest time period. "John Winchester," he introduced, holding out his hand.

The whole group stared at him with open mouths.

"Oh come on; it can't be that stunning," he was shifting uncomfortably, but his voice sounded exasperated. "I thought you got the part where the angel said you had time traveled."

"Yeah, but I didn't think _you_, of all people, would become a hunter," Mary whispered. "I didn't even think you _knew_ about the supernatural."

"_I _don't," younger John denied.

"Yeah, until I watched my wife die on the ceiling," John retorted.

"Oh God," Mary choked. "What happened?"

John opened his mouth to answer, but was cut off by oldest Dean. "The demon came to collect," he informed her. "I'm Dean," he added to their uncomprehending looks.

"No," Mary whispered.

"Yep," Sam cut in cheerfully. "He gets that reaction a lot," he confided.

Dean stuck his tongue out at his baby brother.

Mary looked to the unfamiliar young man confusedly.

"Sam," Sam introduced, holding out his hand. "I'm your second son."

Some of Mary's color flooded back into her face and she squealed happily.

"We have another son!" she cried happily, pulling Sam in for a spontaneous hug.

"Uh-" Sam choked, looking supremely confused.

"Sam can't remember you," oldest Dean volunteered when his mother looked confused at Sam's reaction. "You died on his nursery ceiling when he was exactly six months old."

Mary looked stricken. "How old were you at this time?" younger John queried, looking concerned about his children's upbringing.

"Almost five," Dean told him. John looked horrified.

"I remember you," Mary suddenly proclaimed as she scrutinized him again. "You were that man who showed up the day my whole family died and I made the deal."

"Yeah," Dean confirmed. "Like Sam said, we've been thrown a few odd loops by angels."

"You met my father then?" Mary questioned happily.

Dean's face twisted into an ugly scowl. "Yeah, and no offence, but if I ever see that _dick_ alive again I'm putting a bullet through him."

"Dean Jonathon Winchester," younger John scolded, shocked.

"What," Dean wined, reacting like he had the last time his dad had used the 'daddy voice' when Dean was five.

"He is your grandfather young man, I expect you to be respectful," John reprimanded, taking no notice of the fact that his son was now older then him. "I _never_ want to hear you saying you want to put a bullet through _anyone_, let alone family."

"He tired to kill me first," Dean answered petulantly, crossing his arms and actually _pouting_. Sam found it hilarious.

"He's _dead_," older John responded disbelievingly. It was a phenomenon for him to see Dean pouting about _anything_ let alone a simple scolding.

"Was dead, came back to life, got killed again," Sam corrected.

Younger John picked up little Dean to get the boy to stop tugging at his jacket.

"People don't just come back to life," Mary rejected. "I don't know anyone who has."

"Well you just met two," Dean snorted. "Sam and I die more then anyone I've ever heard of."

Everyone stared at them with dropped jaws.

"How did you die?" younger John managed to get out.

"Being shot a couple times," Dean started.

"Anna (another angel) killed me once, falling in the shower, getting smashed by large objects, choking to death, getting stabbed in the back, demon deals, suicide," Sam listed off.

"Whoa, hold it!" Dean and both Johns stopped him instantly. "Suicide?" all three of them inquired together, looking deadly.

"Yeah," Sam answered slowly. He looked straight at Dean. "When Lucifer told me I was his vessel you don't think I tried to rid us of the threat?" he asked disbelievingly. "I killed myself around five times all in different ways before I got the picture that he wasn't going to let me die."

Dean stared at him in stunned stupidity for a few minutes. "And you never felt the need to tell me this!" he finally exploded.

Sam paused, tilting his head thoughtfully to the side. "No," he finally decided. "Calling you and telling you I wanted back in was a last resort."

"Well jeez, Sam, anything else interesting happen during that time?" Dean questioned sarcastically, deciding now was not the time to lecture Sam on the dangers of suicide. He would take care of that line of business later. In private.

Sam thought for a second again. "Yes, actually," he eventually remembered. "I called Bobby to tell him I thought I was seeing some omens, and he sent some hunters to take care of it. It was a group of three, actually. We knew them when we were younger, but hadn't seen them in a long time."

"They stopped in before the hunt, and I wished them luck. I went on a date with the other bar tender that night. Next day I got to work to find two them holding her captive, and one of them dead. They had heard some things that didn't exactly make them happy, and wanted _my_ help avenging their friend against demons. You can guess the rest."

Dean looked appalled. "And did you help them?" he asked.

"Nope," Sam grinned. "They got pissed and tried to force feed me, but I literally spit it back in their faces and took them down."

"That's ma boy!" Dean laughed clapping Sam's shoulder.

Everyone else looked utterly bewildered.

Middle Dean walked back into the room at that moment. Sam was still completely limp against his shoulder. "Yeah, apparently he forgot we ran out of cold medicine two days ago," he spoke instantly gesturing at Sammy, annoyance clear on his face. "He's got a fever of around 1004.2, but I can't be sure without a thermometer."

"You're both soaked," younger John noticed with amusement.

It was true. Sammy was wrapped in a towel with his tiny wet head settled on Dean's shoulder, shivering violently. His clothing stuck to his body from dampness under the towel's rough fabric. Dean knew his younger self had probably put in the dryer while Sammy was in the bath so he would have something warm to wrap the little boy in.

The fact that the towel wasn't at all wet confirmed this theory.

Dean's younger self wasn't wearing a shirt (Dean guessed Sammy had probably soaked it during the bath) and his own hair was rather wet.

"Yeah, well _someone_ doesn't like to take baths when they're sick," Dean teased ever so gently, shrugging his shoulder a little to get Sammy's attention.

"Go 'way," Sammy moaned, turning his head to face the other way.

"I'm going to get cold medicine," oldest Dean declared, already taking the keys out of his pocket. "Do we need anything else?"

"Bleach," Sam reminded him.

"Food, if we're going on lock down," Mary added in, taking the words straight from Sam's mouth and leaving the young man blinking.

"K," Dean replied. "See you later." He exited quickly. "Find a way to differentiate between all the people with the same name, would you. It's really irritating to not know who you're talking to."

_**Supernatural**_

"So, any ideas?" Mary asked.

Older John and middle Dean instantly looked at Sam.

"What?" he questioned. They continued to stare pointedly at him. "Fine," he gave in. "Oldest is Dean, Middle Dean is DJ for Dean Jonathon, little Dean is Deano, older Dad is either Dad or John, and younger Dad is either Daddy or Jonny, since I know Bobby called him that when we were younger," Sam listed off easily.

"I love how you can do that with no problem," DJ smirked contentedly, hiding his worry underneath a carefree mask.

"I don't see why anyone would have problems with it," Sam protested. "It's only common sense."

"And Winchesters have always been sadly lacking in that area," John finished for him, nodding his head in mock sadness.

"I'm starving," Dean broke in. "And I want to see if I can get Sammy to eat anything."

Sam rolled his eyes as he made his way to the kitchen. "You're _always_ starving," he threw over his shoulder as he looked through the cabinets. He found what he wanted almost instantly. Josh knew them better than he let on.

He pulled cheese out of the fridge, bread out of one random cupboard, and spaghetti-os from another. He then set to work preparing grilled cheese and spaghetti-os for dinner.

"Why are you making that?" Mary inquired curiously. "I mean, you don't even have to be cooking at all. I could do it," she volunteered. She seemed afraid she had offended Sam in some way.

"I'm making this," Sam replied with a smile meant to put his mother at ease, "because these are among the _few_ things Dean knows how to cook. It always comforted me to have something so familiar when I was sick. I figured it would be the best thing to try to get little me to eat. I can make something else for the rest of you if you want," he offered.

"And I like cooking. I've been doing all the cooking and housework since I was about six years old. Not that anyone knows that. Dean thinks Dad does it, and Dad thinks Dean does it. They never seem to notice if dinner is announced when they've both been cleaning weapons for an hour without moving from their seats." Sam laughed a little.

Mary didn't seem to find this so humorous. "Why were you anywhere _near _the stove when you were six?" she questioned with a thunderous frown.

"Sometimes Dad and Dean got so caught up in whatever it was they were doing that they forgot about everything else. They would eventually come out of their dazes and realize they were starving, but most of the time that happened _after_ I went to bed. Dad didn't like it when I interrupted him, and I didn't like to bother Dean, so I learned to cook for myself," Sam told her.

"That's horrible!" Mary objected. "Even _I _didn't have to cook for myself at six, and my father was…."

"Your father was a selfish bastard who liked torturing monsters before he turned them over to the king of Hell," Sam finished for her, nodding wisely.

He had a feeling he shouldn't have said that, but didn't know why. Hugh, maybe Dean was right about his concussion effecting him more than he had thought.

"What!" Mary queried in shock. She had obviously not really taken in what Dean said earlier about wanting to put a bullet through the man. Sam thought she was probably in shock.

Sam winced. "Him and I worked together for awhile when I was…..not myself. I'm never going to be able to forgive myself for some of the things I did while I was with him."

"That's bullshit," Dean announced as he walked in and dumped the bags on the table. "That wasn't _you_, Sam. That wasn't even human. It didn't have a _soul_."

"What?" DJ and John asked, aghast as they entered the room behind him. DJ's hand cradled Sammy's head to his shoulder protectively.

"We've been in some pretty tight spots over the years," Sam hedged. "Being soulless isn't the worst thing that's ever happened to me. It might have the worst thing that's ever happened to several other people though," he added darkly.

"Why?" Johnny questioned as he entered the room with Deano.

"I couldn't _feel _anything," Sam explained, eyes going blank with the memory. "I was like the t-1000."

"What's that?" Johnny inquired.

"A dude from a movie," Dean replied with a faint smile. "Awesome movie. It basically just goes around killing things with no remorse."

"Oh," several people said blankly.

"Yeah," Sam and Dean agreed together.

Dean dropped down heavily onto a chair, groaning as he took his weight off of his still injured leg.

"You shouldn't be on that leg so much," Sam advised as he flipped the grilled cheese one last time. He got bowls out of the cupboard and started filling them with spaghetti-os. "It shouldn't even be out of a cast yet."

"Shut up Mr. I-had-a-concussion-but-I-didn't-think-it-was-impotant-enough-to-tell-anyone-until-I-passed-out," Dean shot back as he rested his head on his arms. "Bobby was just lucky I know how to wake you up from near comas. He was getting ready to take you to a hospital when he called me, you know?"

"Wow, Dean; lots of hyphens there," Sam teased.

"The hell is a hyphen?" Dean asked tiredly.

Sam was prevented form answering by Mary appearing at his side and taking the bowls out of his hands. She threw him a look. "Concussion?" she confirmed disbelievingly. "And you think it's ok to be out of bed, let alone cooking and fighting like normal?"

"Well, yeah," Sam answered with a confused look. "What else am I going to do? School and the monsters never seem to care if you've got a concussion, so I can't exactly afford to baby myself, can I?"

"Sit, now," Jonny snapped, point towards the kitchen table. "Concussions are a very serious thing. You don't play around with this type of injury."

"I know," Sam protested, even as he took the assigned seat. "I'm always careful when there's something wrong with my head."

"Liar," Dean drawled.

Sam sent him a confused and insulted look. "Wall," was all Dean needed to say.

"That doesn't count," Sam complained.

"Whatever," Dean groaned tiredly.

Mary set a bowl of food down in front of him and he looked up to thank her.

"We eat, and then we go to bed," she informed him holding his eyes.

Dean opened his mouth to protest, but was stopped at a simple raised hand.

"No," Mary insisted. "We eat, and then we go to bed."

Dean dropped his head and nodded.

"That goes for everyone," Mary informed them.

No one else even bothered _trying_ to tell her no.

Dinner was a quiet affair. No one felt much like talking yet; they were all still too shocked by the sudden turn of events. They had gone from having a family day, getting ready for a hunt, and recovering from a hunt to being on lock down in a time that wasn't your own.

After dinner everyone was ready for bed. Sammy was so sick that he actually spent most of dinner asleep on DJ's lap. DJ and John were tired from their hunt. Mary, Jonny, and Deano had spent the whole day at the park. Sam and Dean had spent the day running around to track leviathans with very little success.

Bed time was also quiet with little struggle from anyone. John had a room to himself, but he was the only one. Jonny and Mary shared, obviously since they were married. Sam, Dean, and Deano joined DJ and Sammy in the nursery. They _could've_ had their own rooms, or course, but it was second nature to stay close to each other, no matter how many of them there were.

And everyone settled in for a peaceful night's sleep.

How long the peace would last, however, was anyone's guess.

**Done! Really long chapter at 4460 words. **

**I have to confess I had some favorite parts in this chapter. I personally liked "Oh my God! Little Sammy! He's adorable! I'll go get the kerosene," and Dean pouting about John scolding him.**

**I kinda feel like I'm ignoring Sammy and Deano, and that I need to pay more attention to the fact that Sammy is sick. Did I do good, or do I need to work on that?**

**I'm eating smarties and listening to Fade to Black by Metallic. Amazing band, by the way, has anyone else noticed. All the dudes in it have long hair, which is kind of odd, but whatever.**


	3. Chapter 3 Languages and Hell

**I don't own supernatural**

_Italics_ mean it's in a different language. You'll see.

Chapter 3 Languages and Hells

The still silence of four thirty in the morning was suddenly blown to pieces by the shrill tones of a whistle.

In their room Johnny and Mary Winchester bolted upright with the speed of long training.

In the hall across from them their children were behaving somewhat differently.

DJ sighed wearily and climbed out of bed as he did everyday.

Sammy whimpered as the noise pierced his aching head.

Deano sat straight up in bed, looking startled and a little afraid. The poor boy had _no idea_ what was going on. Last night he had been magically transported to a strange place with even stranger people. People who reminded him of the commercials for movies his daddy would _never_ let him see.

Dean rolled over, moaned, and threw a pillow at the intruding sound.

Sam, however, had by far the worst reaction. As soon as the noise ripped into the peaceful realms of his dreams he screamed and curled into a ball, rocking and whimpering.

This brought Dean out of bed instantly. He marched straight over to his father, tore the whistle from the man's hand, and somehow managed to break it in half.

He then moved back towards Sam (leaving a stunned looking John standing stock still in the doorway) and set to work comforting his younger brother.

"Look Sammy," he coaxed holding out the broken remains of the whistle. "I broke it; you won't ever have to hear it again."

Sam simply moaned and continued rocking. "Go 'way. You're not Dean," he mumbled just as his mother and younger father sprinted into the room.

"What's going on?" Jonny asked frantically. Deano (who was understandably scared by the sudden turn of events) shot out of his bed and into his father's arms; clinging tightly to the man he knew would protect him.

"Does he always have this reaction to a whistle?" John added curiously.

Everyone else was completely alert now, even Sammy. He was sitting up in bed, his tiny body supported by DJ. He wassick, but just having Dean near him made him feels somewhat better. He hadn't slept through the night, though, and every time he so much as _moved_ DJ was awake and asking what was wrong. Needless to say, neither of them had gotten much sleep.

"I wouldn't know, would I?" Dean inquired, his voice sharp with anger. "I don't normally wake him up with one." His voice changed to a much more soothing tone as he turned back to Sam. "Com'mon Sammy, look at me. That's it now," he cajoled.

"Why do you have to take _that_ form?" Sam questioned in infinite sadness. "Why can't you take, I don't know, Gordon Walker's form or something?"

Dean's face lit with enlightenment, then clouded with uncontrollable anger. "Are you telling me those sons of _bitches_ used _my_ form to torture you?" his voice was shaking with rage.

Sam shook his head, but his next words brought no relief to Dean. "I'm not falling for that trick again. Not after what you did last time, Michel. Dean isn't here, I'm still in the cage, and you're going to have your wicked way with me like you always do. Just because you look like Dean doesn't mean anything's going to change," Sam recited with despair. He sounded as though he had said this many times before.

"No Sammy; I _am_ Dean," Dean pleaded. "And I'm _never_ letting you go back to that cage."

The rest of the family watched in confusion. What cage were they talking about? None of them had ever heard of a cage for humans.

"You've said that before, Michel; it's always a lie," Sam intoned, somehow managing to sound both blank and angry. Dean was surprised Sam still had _any _fight left after a hundred and eighty years under Lucifer's knife.

"Sam, look me in the eye and tell me I'm not Dean," Dean commanded.

Sam deliberately looked away and clamped his hands over his ears. _"__Je ne peux pas vous entendre, Je ne peux pas vous entendre,_"he said in French. He started rocking himself again, repeating the same thing over and over.

"Really?" Dean inquired incredulously. "_That's_ what you said to Michel and Lucifer?"

"What's he saying?" John asked resignedly. He had long since acclimatized himself to the fact that his sons had their own language. They had tried to tell him that they were actually speaking another _real_ language before, but let's be honest; when your six year old son comes to tell you his two year old baby brother taught him French, you're not going to believe him.

"_ll a dit," _ DJ started also in French, then consciously stopped himself and continued in English. "He's saying 'I can't hear you' over and over again," he informed them.

"Sam, Sam calm down," Dean tried again. When Sam showed no signs of even hearing him he sighed. "Screw this," he spat. _"__Sam, écoutez-moi__**!**__"_ he cried, switching to French himself and pulling his baby brother's hands away from his ears.

"Listen to me," Mary translated this time with an odd look on her face. _"__Yo parler français?" _she questioned. (you speak French?)

"_Sam, listen to me," _Dean repeated. _"Can Michel or Lucifer speak French?"_

This seemed to snap Sam out of his daze. He knew the answer to that, and he knew it was no. It was one of the reasons he had learned French in the first place.

Nothing supernatural could understand French. It didn't matter if you knew it when you died, or even if you lived in France; if you were supernatural you didn't do French. It was like French didn't register in their minds as a language.

And then Sam was launching himself at Dean, clinging as tightly as Deano was clinging to Jonny.

"Dean!" he cried. Then he was off, jabbering in rapid French that everyone but Dean had trouble understanding. _"Michel used to wake me up like that. He said he was thankful that Dad had trained me so well. Like I was a dog or something. The whistle was always the worst," _Sam confessed.

"_Why?"_ Dean queried. _"What did the whistle mean?"_

Sam shuddered. _"Most of the time when he used the whistle I woke up tied to the bed. I think you can figure out what happened from there," _Sam told him.

Dean frowned confusedly.

"_Com'mon, Daddy," _Sam pleaded desperately. He really didn't want to have to spell this out. _"What do you think normally happens to someone tied to a bed by two sexually frustrated angels with no cable to find porn on?"_

Dean's jaw dropped, and not just because that was the first time Sam had called him "Daddy" since their fall out over the opening of the cage. _"You mean they-"_

"_Made me the porn," _Sam agreed.

"What!" Mary shrieked in english, startling everyone out of their wits.

Sam curled back into himself, and Dean sent the young woman a small glare.

"_Sorry,"_ Mary apologized, switching back to French.

"_Get them out of here," _Dean requested.

They were distracted by Sammy and DJ, both of whom were looking rather green as they raced out the door. The sound of retching was heard from the connecting bathroom.

Jonny set Deano down and went to follow his older sons, but John put a hand on his chest and shook his head.

Jonny's concerned expression changed to slight anger, and he shoved John out of the way.

By the time the three of them had returned to the room Sam had clamed down enough to be rational and embarrassed

"It's going to be a bad day, isn't it?" Dean asked as he watched Sam's gaze wander past everything that was real and fasten on something only he could see.

"I-uh," Sam suddenly flinched violently. "Yes, it's going to be a bad day," he confirmed.

"What does that mean?" Jonny inquired in concern.

"It means," Dean started as he levered Sam off the bed, "that unless you want Sam and I gone for the day, we aren't having any meat today."

"Why?" John asked.

DJ instantly accepted this without question; anything to keep from reminding Sam of whatever he had gone through. Sammy didn't think he could eat any meat anyways because he was so sick. Deano didn't think he got much choice in the matter and decided to let his daddy worry about it. Jonny was confused. Mary just stood there in horrified shock.

"'Cause Sam doesn't do meat on bad days," Dean replied in an almost challenging tone.

"What happened to him?" Mary asked softly, tears starting to stream down her cheeks.

"We had a few….incidents with undesirable people," Dean hedged.

"With who?" Mary demanded angrily.

"Various peoples, most of whom are dead now," Dean shrugged.

"Good," Mary snapped viciously.

Everyone else stared at her like she had gone insane.

"A few are also trapped in a cage in Hell forever," Sam added, still a little shaky. "They won't be bothering us again."

Suddenly a thought struck him. "Dean," he said, his voice filling with horror as his face went deadly pale. "Dean, they aren't in the cage in this time. Cas said they're both lose."

Dean froze at the reminder. "Shit!" he swore loudly. Then he relaxed. "Oh well; now I can kill them myself," he shrugged.

Sam suddenly spun to face him. "Dean, you have to _promis_e me not to seek them out," he ordered.

"You think I'm completely insane?" Dean questioned.

Sam stared at him pointedly for a second.

"Ok, never mind, don't answer that," Dean hastened to say. "I won't deliberately go after them, happy?" he demanded, his face falling to a pout. Sam was sure his big brother would've crossed his arms over his chest if he weren't keeping Sam upright.

"Not particularly, but it'll do for now," Sam sighed.

Would he have to open the cage again to end all of this? Would he have to jump? Would he have the strength to do it after all that had happened? Would Dean even let him attempt it? He seriously doubted the last one. More so than any of the others, actually, and that was actually saying something!

"So," Dean started as they walked into the kitchen. "We officially have two choices; oatmeal or cereal."

"I could make eggs," Mary offered.

John looked about ready to take her up on that offer when Dean interrupted.

"No you couldn't," he denied as he rummaged through the cabinet for the oatmeal. "Eggs are a no go too."

"Why?" John asked in obvious frustration. It had irked him greatly to not be able to understand what Sam and Dean had been jabbering about earlier. He wondered how Mary understood their language.

"After breakfast if at all," Dean dismissed. "It's kind of personal."

John was about to pursue it, but something in Dean's voice stopped him. So he asked his other question instead. "How did you understand them?"

Mary looked up in obvious puzzlement. "You mean you didn't teach them?" she inquired.

"Teach them what?" John countered.

"French," Dean answered flatly. "Sam taught it to himself and me," he informed his mother. "Sammy is absolutely brilliant," he added with a father's pride. Mary realized that Sam _had_ referred to Dean as his father several times now, and foreboding crept up on her.

"Shut up," Sam said, ducking his head in embarrassment. Dean simply ruffled his hair and continued looking through the cupboards for Lord knew what.

Little Sammy also went quite red and hid his face in Dean's shirt. He was well enough to actually realize what was going on around him now.

"It was _actually_ French?" John queried in shock.

"Of course. I don't make it a habit to lie to you, y'know," DJ answered, sounding a little insulted.

"Well excuse _me _for not believing my _six_ year old son when he came to tell me his _two_ year old brother taught him _French!_" John snapped.

A real argument might have manifested between Dean and John (it very rarely happened in the past, but that was only because Dean had too much respect for his father to question him. That had changed.) if it weren't for Castiel popping back into existence in the middle of the table.

"Dude!" Dean admonished. "Get your feet off the table; we have to eat off of that thing!"

"My apologies," Castiel monotoned as he did as he was "requested". "I am afraid we have come into a little bit of a difficult situation."

Dean groaned. "Great, hit us with it," he instructed resignedly.

Castiel blinked. "Are you sure you would like me to do that?" he questioned doubtfully.

Sam, sensing what was probably about to happen, started to smile in anticipation.

"Yeah," Dean confirmed with a sigh. "Go 'head."

The next second he was buried under the weight of two people.

Sam burst out laughing.

"You did ask him to hit you with it!" he defended as Dean threw a glare at him. How he had _loved_ Castiel before the angel had gone on a power trip.

Dean flipped him off.

Sam went to respond, but was stopped when the figures decided it was time to get off Dean.

Sam stared at the two people for a second in shock, then his expression turned to heartbreaking hope.

"Addy?" he whispered.

**For Whom the Bell Tolls by Metallica! I love that song, like seriously.**

**I honestly don't have the slightest clue why I decided supernatural things couldn't understand French! It just popped into my head and made a little nest. **

**I left a cliffy! Sorry people, but that's where it wanted to end, so yeah. **

**Any suggestions, people?**


	4. Chapter 4 Adam

**I don't own supernatural**

**This chapter was really hard for me to write. It was angsty, I think, and that's not really my thing. It got Adam introduced, though, and brought up part of the reason Dean's so disrespecting to John (which had to come up sooner or later) so I think it got the job done. **

Chapter 4 Adam

"Sammy," the figure responded, stumbling into his arms.

"Hey, hey, hey; easy there," Sam cautioned as he nearly toppled over himself. Yes, today was _definitely_ going to be a bad day.

He then looked accusingly at Castiel. "You told me in our time that there was absolutely _no_ way for you to bring him back. And now that you suddenly can, did you _have_ to bring him _here_. I don't want him anywhere near all this danger," he snapped.

Castiel blinked again. "I am sorry," he apologized. "The only reason we were able to pull him from perdition was because we called on my father and used the combined power of every single angel in Heaven. It was vital we bring him here because now that you are here, the two times are linked, and-"

"He's a possible vessel, Sammy," Dean finished gently.

Sam cradled Adam's head to his head to his shoulder protectively. The younger man seemed kind of out of it, but then again, he_ had_ just been pulled out of Hell. Sam figured he kind of had a right to be a bit spacey.

"You can go now, Cas. Unless there's something else you need?" Dean added.

"No, that is all." And then he was gone as if he had never been there.

"Not again!" the younger Adam moaned from where he was still seated on the floor on top of Dean. "I have been to _enough_ alternate universe from _stupid_ djinns. Why can't you all just leave me alone," the twelve year old nearly wailed.

His older counterpart pulled far enough away from Sam to stare at his younger self.

"Hate ta tell you, Kiddo, but I think _we_ were the ones thrown the loop this time," Dean grunted. "You only got your location switched; we got our time switched. No djinn involvement at all. No would you mind getting off me, 'cause, no offense or anything, but you ain't exactly light."

Mini Adam jumped about a foot in the air and let out a horrified yell at the discovery that he was sitting on someone. "Who the hell are _you_!" he yelled in a rather high pitched tone.

Dean's eyebrows shot up. "I would be your older brother," he informed the little boy.

There was a pretty much collective gasp.

"Adam?" John questioned, aghast.

All attention focused on him instantly.

"Dad?" Adam asked, obviously confused.

"When the hell did I get another younger brother, and why wasn't I informed?" DJ inquired lividly.

"Dad had one fling after Mom died," Sam started. "Just one in twenty some years. He got hurt on a hunt and was found by a widow. He didn't want to go to the hospital, so she took him home and took care of him."

"Where were you?" Jonny interrupted.

Dean gave him an odd look. "Our home of the week, of course," he stated as though it should've been obvious.

"You left them home alone!" Mary shrieked.

"I like your mom," big Adam mumbled to Sam.

"Me too," Sam mumbled back.

"Dean was nine by that time, and Sam knew not to cause trouble at five. It wasn't supposed to take that long," John defended.

"Yeah, thanks for calling, by the way," Dean said bitterly. "Sam and I absolutely _loved_ not knowing if you were even alive for a month. It really helped us sleep at night."

John was silent, never having thought of that before.

"Anyway, he got to know her during that time, and thought she was a pretty nice woman. I actually think she reminded him a bit of Mom, since she looked almost exactly like her. At the end of the month, he thanked her in his own way, and then left. He forgot to use a condom."

"Dean!" Sam yelled. "Little peoples are present."

Dean opened his mouth, but Sam cut him off before he could say anything.

"And it doesn't matter that they already know what that means. Deano doesn't, anyway."

Dean looked thunderstruck at the very idea that he didn't know what a condom was.

"We'll have to remedy that, won't we?" he questioned with a grin.

"Dean!" it was Jonny this time. "He's not even four yet! I swear I will have your ass if you say one word to him about anything even remotely related to," he paused, looking for a suitable word to replace sex, "mating," he decided on.

Everyone but John, Deano, and Mary burst out laughing.

"I'll make sure he doesn't know anything until he finds the porn channel at six when Dad's gone," Sam teased.

"Dude, that wasn't funny!" Dean scowled. "I had no idea what it was. All I knew was that there were naked people on screen making funny noises. How do you even remember that; you were two."

"I have good memory," Sam snorted. "Besides, the expression on your face was priceless."

"It was nothing compared to Dad when I asked him what it was," Dean laughed.

"Moving on!" Mary said loudly. "So that's how Adam came about?"

"Yeah. We didn't know anything about him until he showed up asking for Dad. Turns out it was just a ghoul who ate the real Adam. Not cool," Dean shuddered.

"I can tell you it wasn't as cool as it sounds to be eaten by a monster either. He had really bad breath, and he ate Mom before me, so I was pretty freaked," Adam pouted.

His younger counterpart stared at him.

"It doesn't even sound _remotely_ cool to be eaten to death!" Jonny rebuked, looking pale. He obviously took being a father much more seriously than John did.

"Another thing," Dean cut in. "You know before we met Adam I honestly thought you did the best you could with us? You were never there, and when you were you were either insisting on training or taking us on a hunt, but I thought you literally weren't capable of doing the type thing normal families did," he told John.

"I thought they reminded you too much of Mom, so I didn't push it when you said we couldn't go to the zoo or ballgames. I dealt with the teasing I got when people realized I had never seen an elephant or whatever. I stuck up for you and told people why would I want to see a stupid animal that only stands around anyway."

"You know Sam never went to one fair, carnival, anything like that until he was over twenty and we were working a case at one? Not that Sam liked it all that much because of the clowns and all, but still."

"And I never said anything because I didn't want to hurt you," Dean shook his head.

"Then we met Adam. You know you did all those things with him that you never did with us. I'm not saying that he didn't deserve for you to do that, because he did," Dean assured, looking quickly at Adam to make sure he hadn't offended either version of the boy.

The bigger version only grinned at him, completely understanding and already having heard all this from Sam.

The younger Adam looked confused, but in no way insulted. He was twelve and didn't really grasp the concept of neglectful parents yet. Sam had taught him about such subjects in Hell.

Adam had never realized how neglectful his own mother was until Sam explained what was neglect and what was not. He knew his mother was never there, but he never knew there was anything was wrong with that.

"But I didn't understand why you couldn't do things like that with us," Dean continued. "Sam and I worked our _asses_ off doing pretty much whatever you wanted us to, but you couldn't do us the courtesy of doing your best by us? Would it really have been _that_ bad for us to have a little fun every once in a while?"

"Dean," John tried. "I-" but he didn't have any words to explain simply because there _was_ no way to explain.

"One school function of Sam's that you went to. Just one," Dean requested. "One football game that you weren't around enough to realize I played."

"You play football?" John asked, impressed. "And you come out without injuries?"

"No," Dean snorted. "Sam had to get me to the hospital once and we told you it was a haunting that we were investigating. I intercepted any and all notes you would've gotten about it. Wasn't hard, seeing as the calls only reached me anyways. I was my own emergency contact until Sam got old enough."

"You missed Sam's graduation, Dad. Sam had to sneak out because he was grounded for some reason stupid that I can't remember."

"I wasn't home, so I couldn't do anything about it. He was the star student; the smartest in the year. He was supposed to give the valediction, and he had to sneak out of the window to get there. He had been at the school for two months and he was giving the valediction. What does that tell you?" Dean questioned.

"He was grounded because he got tipsy on his birthday," Adam put in. "Dad forgot about it and had him on double training all day because it was a Saturday. Dean was on a hunt with Caleb (they didn't finish it right the first time, so they had to go back later) and Dad forgot. Sam didn't want to spend his birthday alone, so he went to a party he'd been invited to earlier in the week."

"I wasn't planning to go," Sam said. "When I work up that morning there wasn't even a thought that I might go to a party with a bunch of rowdy nearly college aged kids. It just wasn't my thing. But then Dad forgot, and I just wanted to forget about _that_ for awhile."

"So I went to the party. Good thing I did, too, since it was actually a surprise birthday party for me," he smirked.

"And then someone spiked his drink without him noticing, and he kept drinking until he realized he was getting tipsy," Dean reminisced.

"I was home by the time his friends drove him back close to morning. I was screaming at Dad about 'how could he _lose_ Sam and not even know it?' when they knocked on the door."

"And Sam either gets really funny, or really depressive when he's drunk in the slightest, so he started giggling when he saw Dean," Adam laughed.

"That's why I don't drink all that much," Sam mumbled. "I always end up embarrassing myself."

"Yeah, well getting partially drunk after you snuck out the house didn't really present I good front," Dean snorted.

"The worst part," Sam said slowly. "Was after I told Dad I was going to college and he told me I couldn't because I wasn't even eighteen and hadn't graduated yet. I had thought maybe he remembered and just ignored it for some reason or another, but knowing he didn't even bother to keep tack of how old I was really hurt," he frowned.

Jonny was horrified. How could someone do that to their son? How could _he_ do that to his son?

It was incomprehensible to him. Dean and Mary were his _world_; how could he forget that when his wife died? His world should've narrowed to Sam and Dean when Mary was gone.

"I'm so sorry," he choked out.

"What for?" Sam inquired his expression startled. "You didn't do anything."

"I did," Jonny insisted. "Or at least, my older self did."

Dean snorted. "Trust me, if we were all held responsible for choices we possibly made in the future, there wouldn't be a good man in the world. In one version of the future, I'm a merciless bastard who sends his friends to certain death. Not cool," Dean shook his head.

"Hell, in one future I gave in to Lucifer and killed the whole world," Sam added. "You can't feel bad for what could be. Just make sure it doesn't happen on your watch."

"That's…extremely good advice," DJ raised his eyebrows.

"Yeah, well you pick up a few things after awhile on the job," Sam shrugged. "And I've also been a deep little sucker, according to Bobby."

"Alrighty then," Dean said much more brightly. "Enough with all the heavy topics. Who's ready for breakfast?"

**Like I said, I don't know about this. It was hard to write .**

**On a completely different topic, I went to school for the first time on Monday. It was for a trail day so I would know what to expect next year.**

**It was kind of fun, I guess. I was bored because there was nothing for me to do except sit around (I didn't have any work cause I don't actually attend the school) but I met a couple nice girls.**

**Not really sure how I feel about the girl who showed me around all day. I think she was trying to be nice to me, but she really didn't come off as the type of girl I want to be hanging around with.**

**She skipped her English class two days in a row for one thing. Then we spent the whole journaling period sitting in the gym chatting about prom. She was supposed to go interview seniors for the school newspaper. We talked to two seniors for about a minute each, and then spent fifty minutes chatting. This wasn't a great experience for me, since it was kind of a discussion I couldn't join in with. She let me use her computer, though, so I was good.**

**She also ditched me in an empty classroom during lunch so she could go see her boyfriend.**

**And then she came out of the blue with the fact that she didn't like me jeans. I recently quit gymnastics, so I lost a lot of weight in muscle. This means all my jeans are big on me. Seriously, even my skinny jeans are two or three inches too big in the waist when the fit when I got them. **

**She then informs me that she doesn't like how they look in the crotch.**

**Now I've got two thoughts going through my head at this point. 1. What the heck am I supposed to say to that? And 2. why is she even _looking_ at my crotch?**

**But the rest of the day was good, and I liked the classes themselves. I don't need to be real social in school. I'm good by myself as long as I have something to do.**

**I liked a couple girls I met in band and choir classes. They're kind of the odd type who don't care if they're weird or whatever. I've literally said thank you to people telling me I'm weird, so they're kind of my type. **

**Finally, there was this boy in front of me in the lunch line who just _stared_ at me the whole time we were waiting for food. It was slightly disconcerting because he just _stared_. He didn't say hi, and he looked away every time I looked towards him. (sighs)**

**Long A'N today.**

**Ok, rant is over now. Hope you lied this! Have a nice day.**


	5. Chapter 5 Joshua and the Legions

**I don't own supernatural and never will**

Chapter 4 Joshua and the Legions

"Hey," Dean suddenly said. "Did you ever call Josh?"

"Yeah," John answered. "He sounded rather concerned. I think he thought something was messing with my head. He should be here anytime, probably with back up in the form of Caleb or Jim, or both. Hopefully _not_ Bobby, though. He knows we don't get along."

"'Scuse me, but _I_ happen to be extremely grateful to Bobby. He's like, a second father or something," Dean snapped.

Before anyone could answer, the door was suddenly under a vicious attack from the outside.

"John! Let us in!" an urgent voice half begged and half commanded from outside.

"They're here," Sam announced. "I haven't seen any of them in _years._ 'Scept Bobby, of course."

"Gimme a second," Dean yelled at the door as he strode through the house to reach it. "Whoever decided the kitchen needed to be so far from the door should be shot."

"You're such a drama king," Sam teased.

"Some of us actually enjoy eating, you know," Dean snapped. He had a bowl of cereal in one hand, and was eating even as he moved towards the door.

"I see that," Sam snorted.

Dean yanked the door open, and almost got his nose broken as someone tried to pound on the space the door had previously occupied.

"Dean!" Josh gasped. "Where's your dad? What's all this about older selves, and younger selves, and pre-school Deans?"

He barged purposefully into the house, followed swiftly by both Pastor Jim and Caleb.

"We're all eating," Dean announced, holding up his bowl as proof. "Would you like to join us?"

"Yeah, sure, whatever. Seriously, though, what's wrong with your dad? He was babbling on the phone," Caleb informed him.

"He was going on and on about angels, and Sammy being cursed, and how he gets _so_ much taller, and I don't know what else," Josh added in.

"Y'know, Dad, when I said to call Josh and tell him what happened, I actually meant for you to be semi rational about it," Dean laughed.

"For your information, I _was_ rational," John sneered. "I can't help it if no hunter has ever heard of an angel before.

Caleb, Josh, Jim, and Dean entered the kitchen, and the new arrivals froze.

Dean simply continued back to his own place. He had to admit that it _would_ be a startling scene to people new to the whole time travel gig.

Mary was feeding Deano while Jonny watched with a smile.

DJ was attempting to get Sammy to eat while younger Adam watched them like they were aliens. That was until he decided that Sammy definitely needed to eat and joined DJ.

John was shoveling cereal into his mouth at a slightly unhealthy rate.

Older Adam was sitting on Sam's lap as Sam attempted to pretend he was eating by pushing things around his bowl to create an "eaten" look.

"Dude, you gonna eat that on your own like a big boy, or am I gonna have to feed you?" Dean threatened.

He _would_ do it too. Everyone who knew Dean Winchester knew how he got when it came to his baby brother.

"You suck," Sam mumbled gloomily, but he _did_finally lift the spoon to his mouth.

"What. The. Hell?" Caleb inquired flatly.

"See, Dad wasn't quite as incoherent, or under a supernatural influence as you thought," Dean revealed. "_I_ am from 2011. So's Sam, over there, and Adam. Then there's Mom, Dad, and me from 1981. Our dead ex-friend named Castiel brought us all here because an angel went rogue, and we are apparently always needed to help correct that type of mistake," Dean explained.

"This isn't the first time something like this happened?" Mary asked worriedly.

"Oh no," Dean beamed. "See, this other angel named Balthazar unsunk the Titanic awhile ago. That was interesting to try and fix."

"And you're so casual about this because-?" Jim left the question open ended.

"We've been through much worse than just having to protect family or try and fix a timeline," Sam laughed. "This is practically elementary."

The three new arrivals started at him like he had gone insane.

"_This_ is your definition of elementary?" Josh queried blankly.

"Course," Sam acquiesced easily.

"What happened to not wanting to hunt at all?" Caleb asked.

"Oh I tried," Sam assured him. "It didn't work. Actually got the woman I was going to marry killed. Not very encouraging, if you know what I mean," he recalled sadly.

"Oh honey," Mary practically whimpered. That was the mother Dean knew. She felt bad for _cats_ stuck in _trees_; there's no way she wouldn't feel bad for her own son losing his intended wife. It would never have mattered to her that said son wasn't even born yet in her time.

"It was a long time ago," Sam tried to dismiss. "I miss her, but I'm not the same person I was before she died. I highly doubt she would even recognize me anymore."

It was true, too. Sammy was such a different person now than he had been all those years ago when Dean picked him up from Stanford.

His baby had been through so much since the girl's death that- Hold it; Dean hadn't called Sam his baby in _y_ears. Maybe his surroundings were affecting him more than he thought. He shrugged to himself. Maybe that was a good thing.

Sam needed all the support he could get right now, even if he would never ask for it and was trying to hide it from Adam. Dean often tried to hide how hurt he was from Sammy so _his_ baby brother wouldn't worry, so he figured it would be unfair to penalize Sam for doing the same.

"So, um, if this is elementary, what's difficult to you guys?" Jim asked carefully.

"Uh," Sam trailed off. "I think the hardest was the devil, but the leviathans (current threat) are giving him a run for his money. What d'you think, Dean?"

"I think that Lucifer was _definitely _the worst, closely followed by Michel, and _then_ the leviathans," Dean decided. "Lucifer is the worst simply because he continues to bother us to this day."

Breakfast was finished by now, and they were moving towards the living room as they talked.

"What!" older Adam cried. "What do you _mean_ he's still bothering us?!"

"Well, Sam brought some of the dude with him when he left Hell," Dean deadpanned.

"I did not," Sam denied. "He isn't _actually_ there, Dean, so that means I didn't bring any of him with me. He just kind of…likes to hang around in my head," he mused.

"…Normal person definition," John finally demanded when Adam simply stood there with his jaw hanging open.

It was obvious his kids all understood what Sam was saying, but he hadn't the slightest idea. He _did _know that it didn't sound good, however.

"I'm insane," Sam volunteered when no one else spoke up. "I was tortured for too long. Part of me fractured off and broke into a personification of Lucifer. He follows me around, taunting, hurting, playing with my head…..pretty much the same things he did in the cage," he summarized.

Dean slid an arm around his baby's shoulders when Sam suddenly stumbled. He hated how Sam could be so casual about that. It wasn't _right_. Sam should _never_ have been tortured _at all_, much less for a hundred and eighty years.

"How-how long?" Jim asked.

He and Sam had always been particularly close (maybe it was because Sam was the only one who actually listened when Jim talked about God) and Dean knew it had to be pretty horrible for him to hear this. Hell, it was horrible for Caleb, and he hardly _knew_ Sam.

They reached the living room and dropped into random chairs. Jonny and Mary shared a love seat, John, Caleb, Josh, and Jim dropped into random chairs, and DJ sent Sammy, mini Adam and Deano off to play before dropping into the only remaining seat.

Dean sat down on the last open sofa and pulled Sam's wrist. Sam rolled onto the couch, stretching full length and settling his head in Dean's lap. It was a familiar position, one they often took as kids.

Adam completed the picture when Sam pulled _his_ wrist and the boy dropped onto Sam's chest. Dean could tell this was also something that happened often, and figured they had done it in Hell.

He carded a hand through Sam's hair as they all adjusted themselves for maximum comfort.

Dean was a little wary at having tiny sick Sammy out of his sight, but he figured mini Adam would take good enough care of him for a little while. Just a little while, mind you.

"Depends on whether you're talking about above time, or time downstairs," Adam remarked, turning his head so he wasn't talking to Sam's shoulder.

"See, they run differently. In Hell, Lucifer plays with time. He can stretch one minute on earth into a hundred years in Hell, or he can make a day outside one second down under."

"You mean time doesn't necessarily go at a ratio of ten years to one month?" Dean inquired.

"Of course it doesn't," Adam told him, head tilting at an awkward angle to fix his oldest brother with a confused look.

Suddenly the younger boy's face cleared. "I forgot, you only got the beginners guide to Hell. Sam and I took the full course," he mumbled, dropping his head back down.

"You got what's called the 'fast track'. The fast track is almost always administered by Alistair. Or, it was until Sam killed him," Adam continued. "The fast track is designed for the specific purpose of breaking someone as fast as you can."

"Most people don't last ten years on it," Sam added in. His eyes were fixed on Dean as Dean continued to card a hand through his hair. Sam's own hands were busy gently scratching up and down on either side of Adam's spine.

"You were the longest, and you lasted longer than you thought. It took thirty five years on the fast track to break you. That's unheard of. It's like a beginning hunter besting a long time hunter at everything. It just _doesn't happen_."

"Yeah," Adam agreed. "I don't really blame the poor people. The fast track is one of the most horrifying things I've ever seen," he sighed. "And I watched Sam's torture, so that's actually saying something."

"Anyway," he picked up his story. "Sam and I got the whole damn course. Everything from the rack to a frigging time loop watching everyone we love die over and over again without being able to stop it."

"That seems to be somewhat popular with angels," Sam mused. "Or maybe just Gabriel and Lucifer. I got the idea that they were kind of close before Lucifer fell."

"Yeah, me too," Dean agreed. "Did you hear how he was talking about the guy? I think he just missed his brother."

"Uh-huh," Sam confirmed.

Dean suddenly switched his gaze from Sam to Adam.

"But you said _Sam's_ torture like you weren't part of it," he half asked.

"Oh yeah, he didn't tell you?" Adam almost gasped. "Lucifer wanted to play a game and see how long it took to break us. My torture was watching Sam get tortured. Sam's torture was anything else Michel or Lucifer could think of. The only way anything would change, would be if Sam let them take him off the rack and put me on."

"That's not true," Sam denied. "They tortured you _sometimes_."

"Yeah, when they thought you were getting off too easily and should get a chance to see what would happen if you would just give in," Adam snorted. "That was only, like, every half a year or something."

"It was more than enough," Sam chided darkly.

"For you," Adam agreed.

"For _anyone_," Sam corrected.

"Whatever," Adam murmured. "I'm going to sleep. I haven't slept since you left Hell."

Sam's hand momentarily stilled.

"They didn't _torture_ me," Adam snorted. "Apparently Michel has issues with physically torturing his own vessel. They just kind of neglected to allow me to eat, sleep, pass out….you know, all the essentials of life."

"Sleep," Sam gently ordered. "It's been a long time."

"Mmmmm," Adam made a vaguely concurring noise as he drifted off.

"_You know,"_ Dean spoke, switching to Greek as he did so. _"I know another little boy who could also really use some sleep."_

"_Oh really?"_ Sam teased. _"I can't imagine who that could be."_

"_Go to sleep,"_ Dean repeated his own advice back to him.

"_No,"_ Sam objected. _"I don't wanna leave you alone to deal with all of this."_

Dean snorted. _"Who says you are? A little more sleep couldn't hurt me either."_

"_I don't want to,"_ Sam whispered. He hesitated for a few seconds, but Dean could tell he wanted to add something and kept quiet. _"Will you stay?"_

Dean smiled. _"Be kinda hard to move without waking you up, baby boy,"_ he rationalized.

Sam blinked up at him through hooded eyes. Exhausted eyes.

"_Sleep,"_ Dean reiterated. _"Adam's already out, and you know you'll wake up if he moves,"_ he added when Sam sent a glance towards their youngest brother.

"_Fine,"_ Sam sighed.

"Ok people, it is officially nap time. When we wake back up, I'll answer all your questions. And yes, that does include why Sammy is so little, anything you want to know about Adam, and any questions about Hell. I suggest you all take this opportunity for a siesta too," Dean voiced, switching back to English.

He dropped his head back against the couch exhaustedly.

His fingers kept up their journey through Sam's hair even as he drifted off. He knew Sam's hands were still pursuing their path up and down Adam's back, even though Sam was already sleeping.

The last thing he heard as he drifted off was his mother's slightly stunned question about just how many languages her sons knew. Dean's smile was drowsy, but happy.

It was good to be able to make a parent proud.

And then the comfort of dreamless sleep overtook him, and he was gone.

**Wow, it's been a long time. It's done now, though. I love Adam. I don't know why, but I just adore him. He's in a couple of my stories. **

**I have officially started public school. It's interesting. A lot easier than what I'm used to. Half the people there think I'm crazy smart, which is kind of hard to deal with. **

**Twice now the team I'm on has been accused of cheating because I'm on the team, and that's like having the book to look through. Like seriously, we do review games in groups, and both times we did it someone said, "that's not fair; they have Rebecca." **

**I'm not sure whether to feel insulted that they think of me like a textbook, or flattered that they think I'm so smart. In one of the games, we were supposed to raise our hand if we knew the answer to the question, and the girl in our group raised her hand before she even asked if I knew the answer. She just assumed I would know because I always know. **

**On the other hand, I have recently recovered from what we _think_ was West Nile. The doctors never found out what was wrong with me. I slept all the time, couldn't think straight, and was dizzy. Not fun. **

**Happy thanks giving everyone!**


End file.
